Okay, before I delve into my past of brattiness, let me just tell you, I have learned many lessons the hard way. And they’re no fun. That being said, I thought I’d share something different, than the typical “broken heart” story. Just because.

When I was real little, toddler age, I was a spoiled brat. No joke. My mom already had three older children, and a new baby. But I was the one she spoiled. I got to stay up super late with her, I got to eat whatever I wanted, I got my way. The older three hated me. Sure, they were jealous of me, but they also hated me.

If you’ve ever been around a brat, then you understand. I would throw fits, demand my way- all that fun stuff.

Then as I got a little older, and my new baby sister decided to copy me, my mom put an end to it. And began disciplining me. I had no part of that. I would throw myself on the floor, and scream, I can’t walk! over and over. They called me a “slug.” Looking back, I laugh at myself. Back then, it was horrible. My whole world had changed.

I learned the hard way, through many spankings (and I understand not everyone agrees with spanking, that’s fine, but my mom never abused me so please, do not place “child abuse” and the spankings I got in the same boat.) that I couldn’t get my way. I learned through many spankings that there is a bed time curfew and I had to abide by it. Even if I couldn’t sleep, I had to be in my room, and in my bed- and being quiet enough to let my sister(s) sleep.

Throughout my preteen years, I spent many weeks grounded, but I did learn to stop throwing myself on the floor. I did stop being a total brat. I did learn that I didn’t always get my way. I learned that life doesn’t stop just because there are rules to follow.